<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sister of mine by Elesianne</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720962">Sister of mine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elesianne/pseuds/Elesianne'>Elesianne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Family, Flight of the Noldor, Gen, Sister-Sister Relationship, War of Wrath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:20:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elesianne/pseuds/Elesianne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Findis talks with Lalwen before her departure from Tirion; and an age later, Findis talks to Lalwen's broken memorial.</p><p>The major character death happens 'offscreen'. This is not all angst.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Findis &amp; Írimë | Lalwen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Legendarium Ladies April 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sister of mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What is 'canonical': Findis, Finwë and Indis' oldest child, stayed in Valinor after the Darkening, going to live with the Vanyar with Indis. Her younger sister Lalwen (Quenya names Írimë Lalwendë) was close to Fingolfin and went to Beleriand with him. The rest is made up by me.</p><p>Laurefindil is Glorfindel's Quenya name.</p><p><b>Warning</b> for mentions of blood and discussion of death</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong>Tirion, after Fëanáro's oath but before the Noldor's departure</strong> </em>
</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div><p>Findis sits on Írimë's bed and watches as her sister packs. Findis herself packed for her departure to Valinor days ago, but Írimë did always tend to leave things almost too late.</p><p>Írimë pulls an astounding number of blades of different lengths from a chest. She stows some of them in her pack and one long sword and two daggers in the sword-belt which lies on a table, waiting.</p><p>'That one for my ankle', Írimë mutters as she adds another short blade on the table and surveys the weapons.</p><p>Findis has sat in silence for a long time, staring at her sister and memorising the way she moves, swift and decisive, and the tone of her voice as she speaks to herself, low but melodious. Írimë inherited their mother's gift for song as much as Indis did, though unlike Findis she never cared much to use it.</p><p>Findis hopes she will never forget the exact colour of her sister's voice, no matter how long they are apart.</p><p>That voice shakes her from her thoughts. 'You can still change your mind, you know', Írimë says. 'And come with us.'</p><p>She must have misinterpreted Findis' bereft expression.</p><p>'My decision is as steadfast as yours', Findis replies. 'I am staying. Vórimo and I will take mother to Valinor, and with luck and time and the help of the Valar we shall all heal from our losses.'</p><p>Írimë's expression tightens, and Findis knows that she is restraining herself. 'That is one way to react to father's death and the slaying of the Trees', she says.</p><p>'We believe it the wisest', says Findis with equal restraint.</p><p>Írimë sighs and sits on the bed beside Findis, her riding breeches dark against Findis' cream-coloured dress. 'I am going, Nolofinwë is going, and so is Arafinwë, and all of their children, not to mention our half-brother.'</p><p>Findis looks away from Írimë. 'Best indeed not mention him', she says.</p><p>Along with all the other things Findis mourns for, she still mourns the loss of the playful big brother that she once had, long ago for a short while when it was only the two of them born of Finwë's children. It is silly to mourn for something that existed only for a scant few years, and might not have had she been a boy, she knows; but it had sent chills down Findis's spine to watch and listen from afar Fëanáro agitating the Noldor, lighting a fire in their hearts that would lead them to folly. Or so Findis believes.</p><p>There had been no trace left then in Fëanáro of the long-limbed boy that he once was, holding his sister's sticky hand and dragging her behind him all around the palace, speaking to her of everything that he was interested in which was almost everything.</p><p>Írimë never knew that boy, but she is following Fëanáro anyway, though she goes out of love and loyalty for another brother.</p><p>They are all following Fëanáro, everyone in the family but Indis and Findis and her Vanyarin husband and two of their children.</p><p>'Your son is going', reminds Írimë, and oh, that may be the greatest grief of all for Findis, almost greater than her father's death at the hands of the fallen Vala.</p><p>'Laurefindil is a man grown', Findis says with a heavy heart. 'He makes his own decisions, as did all my children. He has sworn himself to Turukáno's service, and it did not surprise me. He always admired Turukáno most of all of his older cousins.'</p><p>Írimë lays a hand on Findis' knee. She is fire-hearted, not heartless, Findis knows, though her speech can be harsh.</p><p>'I spoke to your daughter', Írimë confesses. 'Tried to convince her to come, but she laughed at me and said that she is her mother's daughter at heart though I may not be mine.'</p><p>'That was not very kindly said of her, nor kindly done of you', Findis says. She is relieved that Malwafindë had not changed her mind. It is enough – too much – that one of her three children is leaving.</p><p>Írimë laughs, though her laughter holds little joy these days. 'I have always appreciated her sharp tongue, Findis, sister of mine. She says things as they are. I tried talking to her because she made, after all, a sword for herself as well as me and many others. I thought that she might have been wanting to go but too loyal to you by first instinct.'</p><p>'She is a smith. I think forging swords was as much professional curiosity as wanting to arm herself and her family and friends.' Findis tries not to care about Írimë's half-hurtful words, and her trying to make Findis's daughter leave. There has been enough discord in their family already. Findis does not want her possibly last private conversation with her sister to turn to an argument.</p><p>'Did you try talking to Tárion too?' Findis must ask. Her younger son, her late-born joy.</p><p>Írimë shakes her head. 'He is not quite of age yet: your child still, more than the others. I would not rip him from you even if he wanted to come –'</p><p>'He does not', says Findis.</p><p>They talk for long hours until the candles in the room burn low and Írimë has to light new ones. She does it hastily, before they are left without light. Though the darkness that these days fills all rooms and streets without candles, lamps or torches is not as suffocating as the darkness that filled their land after the Trees died, Findis and Írimë are both uneasy with lack of light now.</p><p>They speak, and they embrace, and they reminisce about some things that are not too hurtful, that do not rip open any fresh wounds. There are not many such things. They cry a little.</p><p>But after many hours comes a time when Findis has to leave lest her husband and son begin worrying about her.</p><p>In the doorway of Írimë's room, the light of the single candle in Findis' hands between them, she says, 'There will be no public goodbye between us, Írimë. I will leave Tirion before you do.'</p><p>'You, leaving me behind?' Írimë's eyes are bright. 'I would not have thought it.'</p><p>'Mother has decided she prefers to leave first.' Findis swallows. 'Wherever your road takes you, sister, may the stars light your way and the winds blow behind you.'</p><p>Írimë gives a little laugh, but it is a wavering laugh, halfway to weeping. 'Thank you', she says, and embraces Findis, not very careful with the candle. 'For you, I know that they will', she says.</p><p>*</p><p>
        <strong> <em>During the War of Wrath</em> </strong>
      </p><p>At the end of the next Age, Findis finds her sister's grave after a battle in Hithlum.</p><p>The grave was once handsomely marked, she can see. But the great statue that once stood there on a plinth must have been broken years ago, for moss grows on the pieces of it that lie scattered on the ground and a layer of ash covers them. And though Findis tries, she cannot find her sister's visage in the weather-worn stone face with the nose broken off.</p><p>She kneels before the plinth and wipes dirt off the worn words that are carved into the stone. But her dirty glove only adds another layer of soot and half-dried black blood, and she cannot make out the words apart from a few that she recognises as Sindarin. That much she can tell – that Írimë Lalwendë, daughter of Finwë king of the Noldor when they were still one united people, was honoured in death in the language of the grey-elves of the land where she fought her last battle.</p><p>'They told me that you fought bravely until your end', Findis says. Speaking is difficult, and not only because of the ash swirling in the air. 'In many battles by our brother's side. As valiant as any of the house of Fingolfin, as they called him here. I heard that he and his children were the most feared by Morgoth. I have so much reason to be proud of them, and you.'</p><p>Findis bows her head. 'Námo is going to give my son back to us soon', she tells her sister's grave. 'I hope and pray that the rest of you will be forgiven, too. You too gave your lives in the battle against the enemy, and you defended these lands, and you and your swords – your too many swords and daggers, I once thought, Írimë, but you must have needed them all over the centuries.'</p><p>She breathes deep the foul-smelling air. There were two Balrogs in the battle today. The air is always especially foul after Balrogs have been vanquished.</p><p>'I was saying – you and your blades protected many here. Firstborn and Secondborn both, and even Naugrim; and they fought alongside you, people who our half-brother railed against.'</p><p>Findis will not cry, she will not. Her gloves and hands are too dirty to wipe away tears.</p><p>'This is the first time that you have ever been quiet when I talked to you', Findis says. 'No interruptions, no comments. How I miss your voice.'</p><p>She takes a dagger from her belt. 'You left this at home so I brought it to you. I thought for a long time that you must have left it by accident because it was your favourite, your favourite to throw and to unnerve our father by playing with at the dinner table. Flipping it in your hands.' Findis smiles at the memory. The smile pulls at the wound on her cheek, and turns to a pained grimace.</p><p>'It didn't take many battles of my own for me to realise that you left it because it was too small and light. A plaything rather than a weapon. But I brought it to you anyway because I thought it a better thing to leave at your grave than flowers.' Another painful smile. 'You never cared much for flowers, you weren't that kind of princess. And I never thought that I was this kind of princess, one that wears armour and bloodstains and the taste of her own blood in her mouth. But I found my courage and followed in your footsteps in the end, little sister.'</p><p>Findis stabs the dagger into the muddy ground before Írimë's broken memorial. She wishes her gloves weren't so dirty because the pearl-handled little dagger made in the days of treelight and bliss would be prettier without dark smudges. Even with them, it is beautiful, a whole thing in a broken landscape.</p><p>'In any case.' Findis takes another deep breath. 'This land will be destroyed by the time we are victorious. Or on the way to destruction, at the very least. The sea will come and cover all of this, all the graves of all the Noldor who fought till they lost the impossible battle. Did you know it was hopeless, Írimë?'</p><p>Findis looks around. There are other memorials, gravestones and statues here. All are broken and dirtied, all have lost the glory they no doubt possessed when they were erected. They speak only of defeat and desecration now.</p><p>'It is better, I think, for all of this to be washed clean', Findis says with her heart in her throat. 'Your grave, and everyone else's whose bones lie here and elsewhere in Beleriand. The land is lost, though the war will be won by the might of the Valar.'</p><p>There is only one thing left to say.</p><p>'I do not regret my choice, Írimë, though I came here to help end the war you started.' With a last gentle touch to the plinth that once bore her sister's statue, Findis says, 'I hope that you did not regret your choice either. It pains me to think that you might have, and died for it anyway.'</p><p>She rises, her knees stiff from kneeling in armour and from the long day of battle. She whistles for her horse and the grey mare comes, as lovely and valiant as she was when Findis brought her over from Valinor three decades ago though her coat is made greyer by the ever-present ash that makes the battles against Morgoth's forces even grimmer.</p><p>Ignoring her stiff knees Findis mounts her steed and spurs her to a steady canter, returning to where she left her troops. They will have to find a safe place to camp for the night, and tomorrow they will ride back to Sirion and rejoin the battle there. The last of the orcs and Balrogs that had sneaked into Hithlum have been defeated.</p><p>Findis looks forward to reuniting with Arafinwë at Sirion. When the ever-raging battle allows, she will tell him of their sister's grave.</p></div></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading :) Comments are greatly appreciated, as is kudos.</p><p>I'm also on <a href="https://elesianne.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>